


Just a Bastard

by nedstarksbastard



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, I Will Go Down With This Ship, drabble stuffs, oh my messy writing......
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2013-05-16
Packaged: 2017-12-12 02:07:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nedstarksbastard/pseuds/nedstarksbastard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I've just finished reading ACOK, and find Arya and Gendry to be taking my feels already.<br/>And since these two are such masochists in love, this sort of scene popped into my head in which being Gendry's pov about the realization of his feelings for Arya...(as helpless as he thinks they are.) thus the creation of this drabble.<br/>*edited a few obvious mistakes, since I was too lazy to proofread before hand. OTL</p>
    </blockquote>





	Just a Bastard

**Author's Note:**

> I've just finished reading ACOK, and find Arya and Gendry to be taking my feels already.  
> And since these two are such masochists in love, this sort of scene popped into my head in which being Gendry's pov about the realization of his feelings for Arya...(as helpless as he thinks they are.) thus the creation of this drabble.  
> *edited a few obvious mistakes, since I was too lazy to proofread before hand. OTL

Gendry fights it of course, the feelings and thoughts that come to interrupt his daily work, thoughts of her, each time growing more frequent and more passionate despite his denial to himself of such.  
The gown they had given her to wear was simple, accentuated her small but maturing curves, and caused no help in easing his misery when she'd come to visit him during his work.  
Despite her new attire, the attitude he was used to from her never left, (complaining ever so often of the thick layers of the wool and constricting corset); but her looks did no such thing, rather, she seemed to have only grown more in height and beauty.  
Her growing dark hair began to fall just at the skin of her shoulders and a shadowed crevice appeared between the two fleshy rounds of breasts, bound in the tightness of the bodice she wore. He had tried best to avoid the kind, but his eyes still took notice, each time losing the self control to avoid long glances at her.  
And the more he saw her the more he wondered; wondered if her skin was as soft as it was milky white, the thought of it's smoothness brushing against his own.  
Her small neck traced with the trails of warmth from his own lips, with the faint scent of soap on her skin. Her gray eyes looking at him with a fierceness he always liked as he held her in his arms.  
How he wondered of so much, though knowing it was wrong, and knowing it could never be.  
Knowing some day, as her duties make of her, some lord will have her, using her for what alliance the marriage will bring and for the warmth between her legs. While Gendry himself could bid nothing to prevent it. The mere thought of it disgusted him, and a sudden pang of sharpness stabbed his stomach, a feeling of grief in the back of his mouth. He had no power, no name, and no strength that money could provide him. Instead he would be forced to see her no more as Arya, the girl he knew and loved, but as a lady wed to a highborn; who she once was lost and soon forgotten, along with any memory of him.  
Because she would always be a lady, and he, just a bastard.


End file.
